


And To All a Good Night

by ChardMonster, winkwonk



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Biting, F/F, Rough Sex, mentions of nipple mutilation, ovary-kneeing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChardMonster/pseuds/ChardMonster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkwonk/pseuds/winkwonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of an alternate epilogue, for those who desire one. Has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas. See notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And To All a Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> Arguments were had over the quality of the epilogue, and a challenge was set to write a better one. Meanwhile, Chard and I were joking around in AIM, and as jokes sometimes do, it eventually evolved into fic. By the end of it, I realized it more or less met the criteria for the challenge. Chard is less familiar with canon than I am; she's only seen the first movie and hasn't read the books. I don't presume that my version is better, or that I am a better writer than Suzanne Collins. Really, this is just silliness.

"I am a strong sensitive coal miner woman and I don't need no bakers."

Johanna walks in, swinging her axe casually. Her hair is windswept, and the sweat is soaking through her shirt, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Being a tough-as-nails wilderness girl myself, I'm not disgusted by the sweat. In fact, that's exactly how I like my women. Subconsciously, I lick my lips. Johanna smirks, her razor sharp teeth reflecting a beam of moonlight. "How about a lumberjack?" she asks.

"How _about_ a lumberjack," I say, putting on my shades. I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can, see the light reflected in my eyes.

She crosses the room and kisses me, her teeth just grazing my lips. It hurts, but in a way that reminds me that I'm alive. She lifts me up and I shift so that my legs are around her waist, and she holds me up against the wall. _Damn,_ I think, _she is so strong_. 

"What do you think of that?" she says, panting slightly when she breaks the kiss. I tug at the hem of her shirt. 

"I think we need to get you out of this thing and into your usual attire." 

"My, you are a persuasive one." We continue kissing, and Johanna slides out of her clothes. Eventually we make it to the bed and soon I am writhing beneath her as she slowly peels off my clothing, like layers of tree bark. She pulls my hair. I knee her in the ovaries. For us, this is just typical foreplay.

"You seem hungry," I say, blindly reaching for the drawer in the nightstand. She likes it when I tease her. 

"Fuck you," she says. She always says that. I grab the bottle and kiss her; this shuts her up. I open it with one hand, then push her away. She straddles my hips and looks down. She knows what's coming. She loves it.

"Are you ready for the lumberjack breakfast?" I breathe, pouring maple syrup over my flapjacks.

Did I really just say that? They should have called me the _Dork_ on Fire. Wow, I can't even make a decent bad pun. But Johanna doesn't let me wallow in self loathing for very long. In an instant her mouth is all over my breasts, lapping up the syrup that trails down my skin. I flinch when she gets to my nipples, but she knows to be careful, after that one time we got a little too rough and she had to awkwardly explain the injuries to my mother. I'm not sure what Mom said to her, but she must have been terrifying. For weeks afterwards Johanna would only touch me with the utmost care, and I'd had to pin her to a tree with my arrows to remind her that I wasn't made of glass, and that I liked it when she was rough. Luckily, with a lot of practice, we'd managed to reach a happy medium.

Have you ever tried to explain bloody nipples to your mother? Have you ever tried to explain to your mother why she should knock before opening the bedroom door in case you are staring at your topless reflection, running your hands over what look like lamprey bites on your breasts? No? I didn't either. She didn't ask. She put that together herself. For once I'd wished my mother wasn't sober. I tug on a lock of Johanna's hair. She hums. 

I hate it when she teases me, but I refuse to whine. If I do anything embarrassing, it'll eventually get around to Haymitch, and he'll never stop laughing at me. So instead, I push her off of me and pin her to the bed. I can see a look of trepidation in her eyes--not fearful, like in the Games--here, with just the two of us, there is no real threat. Unless you count the threat of multiple orgasms. But we're both hunters. It's what the Capitol programmed into us, and we'll never be able to escape. At least we have each other to hunt. 

"Time for me to claim my prey." I whisper. Johanna shudders at the touch of my breath on her neck. I love that I can make her do that, and by the end of the night, that's not all I've made her do. I finally roll off of her and we slump together, a pile of heavily-breathing naked warrior babes, when suddenly I hear a light cough, and look up, startled.

It's Peeta. Suddenly everything comes rushing back. Before Johanna's interruption, I'd been breaking up with him. Has he really been standing there for twelve hours?

Is that bread in his pants, or is he just happy to see us?

It is definitely bread. 

"I... made you bread," he whines, drawing an entire french loaf from his pantleg. Peeta dresses his bread to the left.

"Oh I've had enough of this." Johanna rolls her eyes and stomps over to Peeta, grabbing the bread and taking a big bite out of it. "Thanks. Listen, your girlfriend is mine now. As in, my girlfriend. Not yours." 

"You mean..." Peeta looks stunned. For a minute, I'm worried. But then suddenly he smiles, and takes out another loaf of bread from his apron pocket. Whole wheat. "Did you hear that, loaf of bread? We can finally get married!" He prances out of the house, kissing the loaf of bread passionately.

And that's it. That's the end of The Hunger Games. Everyone is happy now.


End file.
